


sugar-spun

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Series: We're not meant to be alone [10]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, in which Andy has a sweet tooth and her love on her lap, in which quynh gets to be soft and loved, let her be soft and let her be kind!, or as close to fluff as i can manage, some time after she's come home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26413018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: Andromache tastes of sugar. Her lips are dusted with it; sweetened and powdered, and Quynh kisses them with all the hunger of five hundred years clawing at her stomach. Her hair is short, and her eyes are older. There are no new scars on her skin, and her smile isn’t dimpled anymore, the way it was lit up by bonfires and blood, and Quynh kisses her still.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko
Series: We're not meant to be alone [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906879
Comments: 8
Kudos: 111





	sugar-spun

Andromache tastes of sugar. Her lips are dusted with it; sweetened and powdered, and Quynh kisses them with all the hunger of five hundred years clawing at her stomach. Her hair is short, and her eyes are older. There are no new scars on her skin, and her smile isn’t dimpled anymore, the way it was lit up by bonfires and blood, and Quynh kisses her still.

“Quynh”, says Andromache and it sounds like a prayer on her lips, like sugar and baklava still stuck to them, like stories woven into her skin before it was salt crusted and soft. She still sounds like she did pressed against her on the warm back of a horse, her hair in a twist, her eyes wild enough to make Quynh’s heart flutter against her ribs. There’s something sitting in the pit of her stomach with every touch of Andromache’s trembling hands.

“Andromache”, she says, quiet against Andromache’s lips. Her dress, as red as the blood dripping from Andromache’s labrys, lies soft and thin on her legs, and Andromache’s hands are tangled in Quynh’s hair. Quynh rests her hands against Andromache’s chest. “You’re so warm.”

Andromache laughs, and the sound of it tangles in Quynh’s ribs, like the echo of a first breath in Quynh’s lungs, and she kisses it all off of her lips. Andromache’s arms tighten around her. There’s a sigh lodged in Quynh’s lungs with every move of Andromache’s muscles against her, with every bit of warmth pressed against her chest.

When she was a small girl, and a fall would still skim her knees, Quynh lay tangled with her siblings under an endless starry sky. They would braid each other’s hair with all the clumsiness of small child-hands, with all the wide-eyed wonder of a world not yet uncovered. Her sister’s laughter was too big for her lungs, back then, her brother’s song too far buried in his throat. Quynh would lie tucked between them both, warm and loved and gazing at the stars.

Now, she sits trembling atop Andromache and her warmth, and the night sky has long since shifted. The windows are opened wide into the pouring rain outside, and Quynh is starving for Andromache. There’s something hollow in her bones and carved into her stomach, and Andromache is alive and blood splattered and warm underneath her, her tongue wrapped around Quynh’s language.

There’s a summer storm outside, and Quynh can taste the humidity of it on her tongue, and stuck to Andromache’s lips. The new girl is sitting in the rain, her head tipped backwards. The water gathers on her shoulders, the dips of her collarbones, and her clothes are soaked through. Andy laughs softly, and Quynh looks at her and the way her laughter has etched itself into the corners of her eyes. “Can you believe that we ever were that young?”

Andromache tilts her head. “No”, she says in her own language, older than the wheel, older than Quynh, almost as old as this island. “I forgot I ever was a child at all before she came and dragged us out of that lab.” She’s smiling, and Quynh kisses the corners of her mouth. “I forgot I existed at all before I started dreaming of you.” Andromache tucks a strand of Quynh’s hair behind her ear. “Lying in that desert under the sun. I still remember how you looked.”

Quynh laughs. “A vision as I died?”

“You always are”, Andromache says and leans back into the chair. Her cheeks are flushed. “Dying or no, you’re a sight.”

Quynh kisses her. Andromache tastes of sugar.


End file.
